Orphan Sisters, page 4
‘Indeed, but they are a little hard to pronounce.’
‘There are harder ones to pronounce. Believe me!’ Daddy laughed, as Mummy placed her hand on his arm, as if to halt his laughter.
‘I think what Mr Marcomb is trying to say is that we should maybe use their English names instead,’ Mummy suggested. Most Nigerian children were given English middle names as well as their traditional Yoruba names. ‘Lanre’s middle name is Victoria and Mayowa is named after the Queen herself, Elizabeth.’
‘I did notice this on the forms. I think this would be adequate. Elizabeth and Victoria are splendid names.’
‘I prefer them to use their Yoruba names,’ said Daddy, ‘but I understand what you are saying, Mr Marcomb. They will one day be in university and I want that transition to be smooth for my girls. I just don’t want them to lose who they are.’
‘University?’ said Mr Marcomb.
‘Yes,’ Daddy replied, matter-of-factly.
‘Tayo, if they use their English names, they will fit in better with their classmates,’ Mummy said. ‘They’ll be respected more.’
Her parents rarely disagreed on anything, but Lanre felt this was more than a disagreement about names.
‘I have a Nigerian name, my love. Am I not respected among my peers?’
The headmaster cleared his throat, his skin a new shade of red.
‘I’m afraid your wife has a point. We did have one coloured girl here called Eyitope and no one could get the name right, not even our teachers. I think I was the only one who could because I have travelled to some of the colonies. I’m used to it. Anyway, this poor girl was teased relentlessly by the other students and I wouldn’t want this to happen to your children.’
Daddy was not happy, Lanre could tell. ‘Come here,’ he said, waving her over.
‘What do you want to be called: Lanre or Victoria?’
‘Tayo, you can’t ask her this, she is a child!’ exclaimed Mummy.
‘It is OK, my love. I want her to answer.’ Daddy moved his arm round her back, tickling her just under her arm. ‘Do you like your name?’
Lanre giggled. ‘Daddy stop!’
‘Answer the question!’ ordered Mummy, somewhat annoyed.
‘I do like my name …’ she began but seeing the look on the headmaster’s face she had an idea. ‘I saw a newspaper and there was a lady inside called Lana Turner. She is very beautiful. Lana sounds very much like my name.’
‘That it does, my angel. But is this the name you want to be called here, in the school?’ asked Daddy.
‘Yes!’ said Lanre, feeling a shock of elation at this rapid turn of events. She was actually being allowed to share the name of such a pretty lady.
‘What of you, my angel?’ asked Daddy to Mayowa, sat on his knee.
‘Tayo, she is a baby!’
‘My name is Mayowa,’ she said firmly.
‘Sometimes Daddy calls you May …?’ Lanre, now Lana, suggested.
‘How about that then?’ said the headmaster, as he looked at his watch. ‘It’s still her name, but shortened.’
‘You want to use May?’ said Daddy. Mayowa nodded her head profusely as Mummy shook hers, slowly.
‘OK, that is settled,’ said Daddy. ‘At the school they will be called Lana and May, but we –’ he turned to Mummy ‘– we shall continue to call them by their full names at home.’
‘Would this not be too confusing, Mr Cole?’
‘Not at all; as Nigerians, we have many names anyway. My own father does not call me Tayo but Adekoyejo, for instance.’
The headmaster cleared his throat. ‘OK then, well, Lana and May Cole, welcome to our school!’
Chapter Four
Lana – as Lanre was now called – had hoped her first day at school would be a lot better than it was. She knew so much more than her classmates academically, and was able to answer each of the teacher’s questions, enthusiastically shooting her arm in the air much quicker than anyone else. But for some unknown reason, this wasn’t pleasing to the rest of the class, and the other children seemed to ignore her even more. They never seemed to tire of how ‘funny’ she sounded and Lana began to dread whenever she was asked to read out a passage from a book. There were only two other girls who looked like her in the entire school. But after a tentative ‘hello’ resulted in her promptly being ignored, Lana decided to give up on trying to be their friend. And that was OK. As Daddy had said many times to Lana and May as they both sat perched on his knee: ‘You will be big people after you study hard and attend university! Friends will come later!’
Although Lana felt confident she could handle the schoolwork (at eight she already knew most of her times tables), sometimes during music and movement class, she instantly felt not of this land, especially as everyone else seemed happy to wander around in their underwear and shoes, listening to a faceless voice on the wireless.
‘Sway like a moving tree!’ came the voice. Such an act didn’t seem to have a purpose. If Lana wanted to be a tree, she wouldn’t have flown all the way to England. She was certainly not about to become a tree!
Lana had been at the school a week, enjoyed hearing her new name on the lips of the teachers, and had assumed a routine she could handle. However, as she stood in a queue to meet someone referred to as a ‘nit nurse’, she wasn’t quite sure.
Two white girls were in front of her, the nurse sliding a comb through their hair as she inspected the contents.
‘Uh oh,’ said the nurse as Lana moved forward. The nurse let out a loud sigh. ‘What’s your name, luvvie?’
‘It’s Lana. Like Lana Turner.’
‘Well, Lana Turner, I haven’t got a comb strong enough for your hair. Already broke one last time I had a coloured kid.’
Lana had no idea what she was referring to and just shrugged her shoulders.
‘Is there a comb you can bring in, Lana, love?’ said the nurse, a lot louder this time.
‘Yes, my mummy has one.’
‘Good. I’ll just have a quick look, but you will have to bring one of your special combs in next time, OK?’
‘My child does not have head lice!’ insisted Mummy as Aunty Ginny appeared to be consumed with overwhelming laughter.
‘It’s so funny!’
‘No, it is not, Ginny!’
‘Don’t get up on your high horse, Addy; every child has to get checked for lice.’
‘My children are clean!’ she insisted as Aunty Ginny fell back onto Daddy’s chair with even louder guffaws.
Lana didn’t like Aunty Ginny sitting in Daddy’s chair. By the time he returned from work, she was usually back in her own house anyway. But it seemed wrong to use the chair without him being around. If truth be told, she missed her daddy when he worked late and wished she could be with him all the time. She wished she could tell him just how much she disliked her new school; she preferred the one back home in Nigeria where she had many friends, though she missed Titi most of all.
Slowly, though, Lana began to enjoy school a little more, even without any real friends. She looked forward to the bottle of creamy milk each day, had given the nurse a wooden long-toothed comb she could use in her hair, and she now even enjoyed the strange movement class. No longer giggling to herself whenever the faceless voice consumed the room with strange commands. Lana was becoming a British person (according to Mummy, who could not be happier). By the age of nine, her accent was almost gone, aided by the radio and Aunty Ginny. She had even uttered words like ‘Give over’ and ‘I’m alright, darling’, again, aided by Aunty Ginny.
Without realising, Lana had also accepted the unusual British weather patterns as part of everyday life, enjoyed Ginny’s roast beef even more than fish and chips and was rather prone to exaggerating her Britishness at school or when speaking to people in the shop. Indeed, Mummy would insist on it.
Daddy had been out for most of the day, unusual for a Saturday. When he suddenly appeared, his face was full of excitement.
‘Come with me, Ginny, I will need your help. You are of manly strength!’ said Daddy.
‘Cheeky!’ Ginny laughed, playfully punching his arm.
‘Adanya, girls, close your eyes!’
‘Ah ah, what are you doing now, Tayo?’ asked Mummy with a smile. Over the year and a half, Lana had gotten used to Daddy’s surprises: a bunch of flowers one day, new shoes for each of them or a large bar of chocolate to share. Daddy was the best father anyone could ever want!
‘It is a surprise,’ he said.
‘Another one? Yesterday, you bought me the case,’ she said, pulling the shiny circular leather case onto her lap.
‘Yes, that is for your womanly things. This will benefit the entire family!’
Minutes later, Lana heard a loud dragging sound.
‘Do not open your eyes yet!’
‘When can we open them?’ asked Lana.
‘Now!’
Each eyelid opened to a large wooden cabinet placed by the wall. Mummy slid a wooden flap to the side to reveal a record player, just like the one they’d seen in one of Ginny’s magazines.
‘Wow!’ said Mummy. Lana randomly turned the knobs at the side.
‘What a beauty!’ enthused Ginny.
‘It is a wonderful Magnavox record player!’ said Daddy. May appeared uninterested in the unfolding scene, happy to stare at the picture book in her hands: another present from Daddy.
‘Where did you get it?’ asked Mummy, smoothing her fingers over the five protruding knobs on the side.
‘Dave graciously gave it to me. He is a good man.’
‘He just gave it to you, just like that?’
‘It is an older model. He has bought a new one and asked if I would like this. He knows I am very enthusiastic about modern things.’
‘He must really like you!’ said Ginny.
‘I don’t know why. I do my job, that is all.’
‘Tayo, everyone likes you!’ said Adanya, eyes fixated on the new machine.
‘Do you even have any records?’ asked Ginny.
‘No. Till now we only listen to the wireless,’ said Tayo.
A moment later, Ginny returned and took a black plastic disc from a sleeve.
‘What is it?’ asked Adanya.
‘What is it? Why, Chuck Berry of course!’
The sun appeared with a loving glow as Tayo pointed the camera towards the children as they rolled around in the grass and offered bread to birds. The park was now her favourite place in the whole wide world, where she loved to partake in various poses as soon as the camera appeared. Lana at nine was clearly the showier of the two and as Aunty Ginny had commented more than once, ‘Destined for the stage, that one. No wonder she’s named after Lana Turner!’
‘We did not name her after an actress. Her name is Lanre. This is just for school. We continue to call them by their names. But if you want to call them by their English names, it is Victoria and Elizabeth!’ Mummy had said.
‘Don’t be so stuffy, Addy! Lana and May are terrific names!’
‘They will become big people. Doctors or lawyers,’ Mummy had retorted.
‘Yes, Dr Lana Cole does have a special ring to it!’ Aunty Ginny had teased.
Mummy had shrugged her shoulders and pretended not to smile.
‘Tayo! Stop it! I don’t want any more pictures,’ Mummy now said, with another reluctant smile as Tayo pointed the camera towards her.
He smiled. ‘Too late, my love, it has been taken. I want to show everyone back home how happy we are; that soon I will get a better job and we will live the high life; that you can come to this wonderful country and be happy; that your children can be happy and excel here in England!’
He planted a huge kiss on her cheek. ‘I have some news, my love.’
‘Look at that bird!’ said May pointing at a blackbird, which stood out from the pigeons.
‘Yes, it is a beautiful bird!’ he said obligingly. He turned back to Mummy. ‘I am in line for a promotion, Adanya.’
‘When?’
‘In three months. The timing is excellent. There will be a lot more money and less hours! We will soon be able to save up to buy a house. The children can have their own rooms.’
‘This is wonderful!’ said Mummy, albeit cautiously. ‘But, do you miss home? Do you ever think about going back … even for a holiday?’
‘No, my love.’
‘Nigeria will soon be independent … it will be better—’
‘There is no need. We all have our British passports. We are proper citizens of the United Kingdom. This is our home now.’
Lana rarely saw her parents argue, but one day she heard raised voices coming from the kitchen.
‘You don’t need to work; I am earning enough for us all Adanya and when I get the promotion—’
‘They are not even paying you the same as your white friends who work there!’ she spat. ‘This Dave you speak so highly of does not pay you the same!’
‘Yes, I know, and there is nothing I can do about that. I am a black man in a country that needed me, but, now I am here, does not want me anymore. But I will continue to work hard and be courteous. Ah ah, Adanya, why are you talking this way to me? These are hurtful words, eh?’
‘Oh, Tayo. I am sorry, my husband. I just feel I should be doing something. You are so good with the girls, better than me …’
‘Nonsense! What are you talking about? You are a wonderful mother, Adanya. What is this? All this doubt?’
They joined the girls in the sitting room.
‘Ginny knows people who need their dresses mended. I can do that; I was taught how to sew in Nigeria,’ said Mummy.
Daddy sat in his green chair and May immediately shifted herself onto Daddy’s lap. ‘If it will make you happy, Adanya, OK.’
‘I am happy about this, Tayo.’
He placed a kiss onto May’s forehead. ‘I am happy, if you are happy, Adanya.’
Lana soon got used to the number of women entering the house with bags of garments. Dresses with broken zips, men’s trousers with missing buttons. More importantly, she noticed Mummy’s ever-increasing smile whenever she handed over a newly mended item to its satisfied owner. The bigger of the three leather vanity cases Daddy had bought her now brimmed with sewing paraphernalia and was rarely closed.
Ginny would sometimes bring over a record and the two of them would laugh insanely as Lana tapped her feet to a beat or May moved her head up and down.
Lana’s favourite singer was Cliff Jacks, though Ginny had scoffed at this, dismissing him as ‘too lovey-dovey’ and ‘not exactly, Jackie Wilson is it?’
Lana woke up one morning to the sound of a very loud screech she’d assumed was part of a bad dream. She rubbed her eyes just as the sound got louder.
‘Mummy? What is wrong?’ She raced to the hallway where Mummy stood in her nightgown, facing the doorway to the bedroom.
‘Go and fetch Ginny! Go and fetch Ginny!’ These were screams mixed with words. She couldn’t see the expression on Mummy’s face, only her back.
Lana raced to Ginny’s flat where Ginny appeared at the door with her hair rolled into pink curlers.
‘What is it? Where’s the fire?’ she said with a wry smirk.
‘Mummy is calling you!’
Lana knew this was a matter of urgency, but did not know why.
‘Let me get these curlers out first, darling—’
‘No, she needs you now, Aunty Ginny!’
May had roused from her sleep and Mummy was no longer screaming, just standing in the doorway of the bedroom, her breathing loud.
‘G … Ginny!’ she managed to say.
‘Stay here with your sister,’ commanded Aunty Ginny. She followed Mummy into the bedroom and shut the door behind them. Lana stood in that corridor, not daring to move. Something was very wrong.
Ginny reappeared moments later, her face whiter than Lana had ever seen it.
‘Erm … girls,’ she said, the door ajar behind her.
Lana tried to see past Aunty Ginny and into the room. She could see part of foot. That was Daddy’s foot.
‘What’s happening, Aunty?’ asked Lana.
Aunty Ginny gently closed the bedroom door. ‘You both go to your room and I will get you later. I am going to call an ambulance.’
Alarm rose in her body. ‘Why? What’s wrong with Daddy?’ asked Lana.
‘I’m just going to … call an ambulance.’
‘Where’s Mummy?’
Ginny was answering no questions as she bundled the girls into their room. May quickly began to amuse herself with a book as Lana sat on the bed in silence, locked in even more confusion. She’d always been told to do what an adult asked, yet was so very tempted to march into her parents’ bedroom and ask Daddy what was going on. He would tell her. Daddy would never hide anything from her.
A full hour later, the girls were finally allowed to leave their room. Daddy and Mummy were at the hospital, apparently. Ginny’s eyes were red from crying.
‘Girls, come and sit with me on the settee,’ she said.
Each girl sat side on either side of Aunty Ginny and she took both their hands. ‘Lana, May. I’m going to need you both to be strong.’
‘Why?’ asked Lana.
‘Is it Mummy?’ asked May.
‘No, it’s your father. He’s … your daddy’s gone to heaven. He’s … gone.’
Chapter Five
Mummy came back from the hospital but did not speak for three whole days.
For three days, May sat lost in a book. For three days Lana could only think of her daddy, the sight of his foot. His lifeless body, already cold.
The only time she could erase that final image from her mind was when helping Aunty Ginny with whatever they could find to do in the flat. Like cleaning the kitchen or making a sandwich. No one sat in Daddy’s green chair.
At night, Lana’s eyes filled with tears as she lay on the bed. Her cries silent and so unlike Mummy’s, who she could hear clearly through the wall each and every night. How could this be, when she had heard nothing from Daddy whilst he had perished in that very room? Not a sound, not a whisper. Just the sound of Mummy’s pain moments later.
Lana had now entered another life. The house, furniture, street, the sky all looked the same, yet would forever feel different. This horrible new world without her daddy in it. She longed to be part of that old world again, where he would point his camera in her face every chance he could. Where he would pop strawberries into her mouth promising they would make her big and strong. A world in which Mummy would speak to her, laugh with Daddy and hum songs from Nigeria, as she washed parts of a chicken in the kitchen sink. Now Mummy said nothing as she sat and gazed at the wall, at times, rocking back and forth as Aunty Ginny said on repeat, ‘I don’t know what to do for you, Addy! How can I help you? Tell me what to do!’
